Arms of the Wreakage
by AmandaLynn1616
Summary: Faye keeps leaving. It's her instinct and her past. So when Spike actually starts to care, will it be too late? And will the bebop let her crawl back? And what happens when her past bites Spike in the... you know..


A/N: Eh... sort of a pre-write for a fan fiction... I dunno, this kind of stuff is pretty common... Let me know if I should continue :shrug:

To Spike Spiegel, priorities didn't make much sense. They were a waste of time. He thought there were only influences upon your decisions, and then there were your focuses. The things that you really concentrated on, the stuff you really cared about, and you put your attention to it. But to him, until New Years Eve 2072, priorities were just a common misconception.

Spike, Edward, Ein and Jet were all sitting around the television, watching all of the celebrations of the new year pass before their eyes. Edward was upside down on the couch, her face well red as Ein nipped at her hair. Jet glanced at Ed, shaking his head briefly.

"Ed, that kills a lot of brain cells."

"Ed's new resolution is to grow some new ones!" she says enthusiastically. Jet opens his mouth to start explaining, but Spike grabs his shoulder and shakes his head.

"Don't even try."

Spike puffed on a crisp cigarette as he watched the airship show with the fireworks, heaving a large sigh. It's just been another waste of a year, he thought to himself, thinking of the financial slump they still were headed at. Spike sputtered as he realized he had been smoking the filter, so he put it out in the ashtray, frowning, as that was his last one. He stared at it as if it were to grow back.

"Where's Faye-Faye?" asked Ed quietly, kicking her legs up.

"Sleeping, I suppose. Usually she comes out on New Years Eve to be depressed with the rest of us." Jet said.

"I don't blame her for sleeping." Spike muttered, looking up at the television as if it were the enemy.

"Ein, go wake Faye up." Jet said, without realizing that with everyone acting so down, it had forced Ein into a depressed ball on the floor. His ears with drooped and his eyes were at the television like he didn't hear.

"Spike?" Jet asked.

"You nuts?"

"Yeah, yeah, fine I'll do it." said Jet under a breath as he got up. He walked over to her room and knocked, walking in. Spike continued watching some hot chick blabber about the New Years Eve parade as if anyone cared.

"Ed's hungry..." Edward said, finally sitting up towards the cough, her face still bright red.

"You're always hungry." muttered Spike, looking at his cigarette bud again.

"Food, Spike?" Ed asked, begging.

"Noodles are all we have." Spike said, watching the hot chick again.

"No noodles, no." Ed said in a muffled voice, her face buried in a pillow.

"You don't really have a choice..."

"Mushrooms?" Ed asked hopefully. She was referring to the thousands of mushrooms they had won in a failed bounty.

"Nope."

Ed heaved a sigh, again hanging down from the couch frustratingly.

After a few minutes, Spike looked out at Faye's door curiously.

"Jet! Is she alive?"

Cynicism is bliss, thought Spike.

"She's gone, Spike." called out Jet. Spike, Ein and Edward all looked towards Faye's door. Spike didn't remember getting up. He didn't remember moving his legs. He remembered the sad look on Jet's face, Faye's bizarrely clean and empty room, and he remembered the note she left.

"Jet,

I'm leaving again. I'm sick of being poor. Hell with you guys.

Faye"

Spike had a new priority...

And that was to hate Faye Valentine.

---

Faye poured a cup of coffee to some middle-aged businesswoman, the steam coming up against her cheeks. She walked back towards the counter after a light meaningless thank you from the absent-minded customer, leaning up against the rickety old counter as she looked around the breakfast restaurant, heaving a large sigh. It was three in the morning, and the lights were dim enough to put an accent on the dullness of the white walls. Those were the walls, which kept her from her place in life. She didn't know where it was anyways.

The bell rang on the door as a new customer came in, Faye turning around only to see a sad, hopeful Spike. She sighed, knowing that this day would have come eventually. He'd come begging for her, groveling pathetically. Well she wasn't going to stand for it.

"What do you want, Spike?" she said in a deadened voice.

"Coffee." He slumped in a seat and took out a newspaper and cigarettes and before you knew it, he was puffing on one. Faye shrugged and got out a coffee pot and cup, pouring it and setting it at his setting, afterwards trying to look into his eyes as he was skimming the newspaper.

"Do you have a problem, m'am?"

"I'm not coming back."

"Not right now, Faye."

The businesswoman glanced at Spike inquisitively, then at Faye with a hazardous spark in her eye as she tapped on her palm pilot.

"I'm sick of the low pay-"

"Faye shut the hell up!" Spike said in a threatening tone.

"And the Bebop is like any other job-"

"Faye I'm here for business!"

Faye grabbed the newspaper, and then looked him in the eye with earnestness.

"I know you're hurt, I had feelings for you too, but bounty hunting is not for me-"

"Dammit Faye!" screamed Spike at the top of his lungs, and within two seconds a gun was pointed at his head, the business woman smirking.

"Your ciggy, sir?" she asks in a sweet tone, Spike snarling as he took it out of his mouth, handing it to her. She put it to her lips as if to shove it in his face.

"Don't smoke too much. I'll be getting it back soon," he muttered, giving Faye a brief 'I'm-going-to-kill-you' look. She smirked, took a huge puff, closed her eyes and blew it in his face. Big mistake.

"No one touches those but me."

"Touched."

That one word was enough to make him go insane.

The gun was loaded, but with a graceful swing from Spike's lanky arm came a headlock. Spike had his cigarette back. He took one puff, and the smoke came out as he said his last words to Faye before he went to secure his bounty.

"We don't care, Faye."

---

"They don't care? THEY DON'T CARE? God all I do is try to satisfy them and to make them happy by offering my services and then all it leads me to is debt and now they don't care that I left!" Screeched Faye angrily, sitting in her red silky bed next to her new companion as he ran his fingers through his blonde, short hair as if he wanted to get the hell out of there. She crossed her arms frustratingly, shaking her head. He sighed.

"But aren't you happy that they can live without you? So you don't have to be bothered by them trying to get you back? That should be a relief, babe." He said, wrapping his large, well-built arms around her stomach.

"No! It's not relief because they were like a family to me! And all they can say is they don't care!" she said, shoving his arms out of the way. She was obviously NOT in the mood. PMS and Spike had taken a toll. The top two things she hated, too. He sighed, putting his hand on his forehead as he leaned in.

"Well... then why'd you leave?"

For a numbskull, he was smarter then he looked.

"Because... I hate being poor..."

"Money?"

"Yeah, of course..." said Faye guiltily. She knew that was the wrong answer, and she pouted for it. "Dammit, why are you right? Men are never right."

Her companion snorted.


End file.
